


Mind of the Wyrm

by Lisie



Series: Wyrmblood [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisie/pseuds/Lisie
Summary: This covers the events of FSoF (so heavy spoilers for HW story) and a little bit of fluff after the fight.My first attempt ever at writing in full stream of consciousness. Please review of you're happy to - I'm alright with people being brutal! It didn't come out as great as I imagined it when I first had the idea so I might edit a few times.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: Wyrmblood [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742200
Kudos: 13





	Mind of the Wyrm

Endless swirling depths of darkness. I thought death, but it's not. Pain, anger, wrath, a bottomless thirst for revenge. The same as before, the memory still so clear, ever tied to these feelings. The ground underneath my feet still hot from the fire and flame, soot swirling up into the air, choking. The heat, it burns. I can't think, my throat tight, from the flames and the fear. The fear of what lay beyond the charred remains of the threshold. The last time I ever felt fear. 

Before, it was peaceful. The sun shone brightly. So bright, the suds shone when mum cleaned our clothes in the big wooden tub. A bubble flew up into the air, and I chased it, blowing and blowing to make it go higher and higher towards the sun. Mum laughed, then scolded me through her laugh - I needed to help. There was a lot to get through in a day with only us four. I was proud that I grew up strong, good with my hands, good on my feet. My feet which carried me over the fields, and I jumped. Jump to blow the bubbles, jump over a fence, jump to reach my father's shoulders and he would carry me through the fields. Always smiling. Always happy. 

Mum smelled of soap. Soap and bread. My father, of heather - until he took off his boots, then we all left to sit on the grass to eat the freshly baked bread. The flowers smelled better than his boots, and the wind carried the smell of boots away. I was happy. I laughed, mum laughed too, and father scowled. He didn't like being teased. But then his scowl would soften when he looked at us laughing. Sometimes he smiled. 

And then it was gone. And all I had left was this. Darkness, except I could see, and breathe. My heart beat in my chest like it's beating now but all the happiness was gone. Only pain and the memory of the charred wood. The blackened remains in the centre of where the house once stood. Mum, who always smelled of soap, and father who smelled of heather, smelled of.. I dont want to remember, but I always do. Acrid. The fire and the flames were so hot it burned through everything but somehow the smell remained. They held each other at the end. Tightly. So tight. A mangled black mess together. My brother in the middle. 

That wyrm. He took everything from me once. And now he wants to take it from me again. The pain had started to go away; friends, her, a life beyond fighting to die, and then he brought it all back again. He will never let me rest. Not until either my spear skewers his eyes, or his claws sunder my heart. I will find him first, before he can take anything more. From anyone. 

Wait. 

.....

The darkness. This is not death. Cast back through my memories but I can't see. But I can feel - my heart beating. I can feel the wind on my skin - it's cold. My throat is burning. The rage, it's making me lash out with my hands. No. Not hands. Claws. 

Nidhogg. What have you done. 

' _Awake now, dragoon? Good. This part, we have to do together.'_

Rushing. All the information flooding. Overwhelming. The wind, cold. The Steps of Faith. We? What has he done? My throat burns from the fire from my own breath. My breath? His breath. _Our._ The crumbling stone. Claws don't catch well on the stone. With every hit to my scales I feel my body slipping backwards. But even if I fall from this height I have wings to take me soaring into the air, while the fleas in front of me die. Die for the pathetic beings they are. The beings who took away my sister. My friends. Her song was beautiful. She was beautiful. But they were petty and greedy, and she was too good. She was honest, but she was too trusting. They didn't deserve her honesty or her trust. These pathetic beings whose lives don't matter. So fleeting and yet they took her away. I'm left here and I will fight until they all die. I will not breathe my last. Never. All the time they could have known peace away from you, I will use to hurt you like you hurt her. Killed her. So I will kill you. You tore her apart and ate of her flesh. So I will eat of yours.  
Look at you run like the cowards you are. To and fro, but you cant escape my rage. 

"NIDHOGG."

'Yes, _dragoon_.'

He's laughing. We're laughing. I hate this laugh. It's inescapable, roaring in my ears and my throat. I'm tired of the rage. All it brings is more pain, more death. A laugh but it's not happy. Laughing from pain. Laughing for revenge. More than mirth. Laughing in hatred. 

'You can't be tired of it, dragoon. Otherwise you wouldn't be here, with me. I need your rage, and you need mine. But if you need a reminder.'

Eyes cast downwards, I cannot control where our body moves. A party of eight. She. No. Nidhogg, _no._

'There's more.'

Eyes cast up. In the distance. More dragons, their wings beating against the stone as they land from high. Claws lashing, tearing, their eyes misted from the call - the call from us. _Kill them. Tear them apart. Pathetic creatures. So cruel. Not deserving of life. If your wings fail you, use your claws. If your claws fail you, use your teeth. But make them suffer. Make them suffer as she suffered._ Ishgard crumbling, burning in the fires, just like my home. My father, my mum. My brother. 

The Temple Knights are fighting. Their lances piercing flesh, their bodies soaring in the air to find their winged marks. One fell - slipped on the crumbling stone underfoot. An opportunistic slash. Blood. Flesh torn. Joy. A brief moment of happiness. His blood spattering weakly across the stone. The last gasp of a dying man. I knew him. He was a good man. 

Anger. Hatred. Rage. It's mixing. We feel the same in this moment. 

'Good, dragoon.'  
Laughing, make it stop.  
'Now you feel it. Let it course through you.'

I can't stop it. It's everywhere. The death he brings. The suffering. He will never stop, never forgive. There are good people in Ishgard. There are good dragonkind, I see that now. I have met them, talked to them. But you send them to their deaths too. They are your _children_. Your family. 

_Nothing but Hatred. And that laugh._

Anger.

"DO YOU ENJOY THIS, WYRM?"

'Yes, I enjoy it. How did you feel when your spear burrowed through the flesh of my kind. I felt it. You thought you were the only one who could feel what the other felt. I felt your glee. Your satisfaction. Your MISPLACED RIGHTEOUSNESS. Your practised form. Oh how you trained, how you fought just to feel that glee. That happiness you could only feel when the blood of my kind poured.'

"Enough!"

Rage. Burning rage. I was wrong, we were all wrong, but we were not them. We didn't know. Good people, some of yours, some of mine, risked their lives, laid down their lives. I was willing to give up my hatred. But our feelings are mixing. 

No more than a hiss. 

' _Yes, dragoon._ '

Bones cracking, reforming, mangled. Scales to skin, claws to hands, but sharp. And red. Red like the tint to our eyes. Like the tint to our armour. Like the glow from my spear. Bathed in blood. Who's blood? Not hers, please. 

'Oh? Is she _special?'_

Eyes bright and shining, even as you fight. Set with determination. With hope. The hope I started to see, from you, from my friends, from the people who were stronger than me. The people who fought and died, not for the past, but for the future. How I wish you'd smile. But that won't happen again, not while I live, not on this battlefield. We need to die here. Nidhogg and I, brothers in our feelings. Feelings that bring no good to the world. My body driven totally by them. Nidhogg is controlling us through them. I'm fighting against him - with all I have. But it isn't enough. When you laugh, the pain retreats, slips away with the wind. Warm. Like it was before. A bright sun. Sometimes I can't help myself and I smile too. I just want to see it one last time. I've been selfish my whole life, but I want to be selfish again. A smile you hardly ever show to others but so often show to me. Special? Yes, she's special. 

Sudden. Coursing. Burning. _Envy_. Her song carried through the skies, her wings beating, slow, sure, rythmic, calming. Warm. Droplets in the clouds reflect the sun, shining like stars. Her eyes catch the light, beautiful, deep, sing a thousand words, a thousand songs in a single glance. Gentle. So happy, I took a dive through the air as I returned home. The wind rushed across my scales and I felt alive. Every day was filled with colour. She sang about any and all and I saw the world a different way. I would wake up and feel joy for a new day - mornings were especially beautiful. The promise of a new day. But she is gone. Her beautiful eyes slashed from her. And _eaten_. I dont feel alive anymore. I slumber, only to awaken to another world without her. My world is dark and I have no one. 

.....

Clarity. Soft. 

"Nidhogg. Have you ever considered her feelings?" 

Silence. But my spear continues it's movement. It grazed her skin and I shuddered. We shuddered. Hesistated. 

"She sounds like her. Her eyes dance too. Dance in the sun, dance in the light. She doesn't sing, her eyes don't sing. But she tells stories in her own way. She's kind and gentle. Even to me, so similar to you. All the anger, the thirst for revenge. Returning pain with pain. She would probably save you too, if she could. Don't you think that's what she would have wanted? For you to live without pain?" 

_'GET OUT OF MY HEAD, WYRMBLOOD.'_

"You wanted me here." 

Laughter. This time my own. Aymeric would roll his eyes. Figuratively. I could almost hear my own voice in that thought, the edge of my lip twitching. 

A strike to the chest. We clatter to the ground, for an instant. Before we are up, more voracious than before, more cutting, sharper. But faltering. A pair of rusted blades in our last battle before we shatter against the changing tides. We can't win. 

_'We will.'_

"We won't. You've seen her fight before. And besides, I won't fight her. I won't hurt her."

My spear hovers in the air with our body. A flutter of control. 

"So if you want to do this, you do it without me."

A powerful force radiating from our heart. The same feelings as before, but they arent as bad anymore. Our flesh is tiring from the blows. Slowly whittling away. 

"I know the difference between you and me, Nidhogg. I thought we were the same all this time, but we aren't. I don't want anyone to suffer as I have - as you made me suffer. I hated dragons, yes. Before. But now I know the truth, so my hatred is reserved for you and you alone. Because _you_ took them away. But I'm tired of always looking at the bitter past. There were good memories too, and I'd rather lose myself in them. Especially if they are my last moments. And she wouldn't want me to suffer either. Even if she wasn't here anymore, I know she'd want me to be happy, to make friends, to live for something better."

...

_Endless, bottomless, unrelenting rage. Vehemence._

'You are weak Wyrmblood. I will do this alone.'

****

I can hardly see. Blurred figures ahead of me, but at least the red isn't so bright anymore. I can still feel him simmering in the back of my mind. _I told you so, Wyrm._ I want to grin, but I can feel the beating we took, my ribs cracked, my flesh torn. I don't know how we're still alive. Is that.. Her? And Alphinaud? Aymeric? Some of the memories are coming back, piece by piece. Aymeric tried to kill me, the cheeky bastard. He was always crap with a bow. Might have ended things a lot more smoothly if he just practised a little more. But enough of that. I'm tired, and its time to put an end to this. 

My voice is croaked, searing in agony. But I need them to end this now. I'm fine with it. No more pain. 

But they're not moving. I can hear them discussing. Is this really a time to be talking? What else can I expect when you put Alphinaud and Aymeric within two feet of each other. I want to know what she's saying, how she looks. Burn it into the last whispers of my soul, but I don't have the strength. 

Oh? Is it finally happening? It's coming from the eyes though. What are they doing? Splitting in my brain, my heart and my body. My very soul. Our souls. The souls of others? Haurchefaunt? Ysayle? How? 

Darkness. 

*****

The ceiling isn't red. 

It isn't pink, or yellow or any of the other colours I thought an afterlife might be. And Halone, my body hurts. _My_ body. How did they do it? Are they mad? The shuffling of a blanket. 

Despite all else, my eyebrows perk up instantly at the sight. You're asleep. Legs tucked up on an armchair, a blanket over your legs. Your Codex ilms from your fingers. What has my life come to that I need a protector while I sleep. I want to reach out to touch you but I can barely move. I've been through worse, all I have to do is reach out with my fingertips. That'll do. The sound of the Codex hitting the floor jolted all my senses. The damn pain. I want to rip my ears off. Don't! How are you already at the door? 

"Stay."

Fuck. Even talking hurts. But you have to stay. I don't like other people much. Just you is perfect. 

By the... Stop hovering and just come _here_. Closer the better. I'll pull the blanket up. Some of the strength is returning. 

"If you can't help me, I doubt the chiurgeons can do much either. If they can do something you can't they don't need to see me right now."

Relief. Your touch is so warm, but you look worried. Your hands, always gentle, but shaking and you're treating me like glass. Alright. I'm probably like glass now. In body but not in mind. I don't want you to worry. I'm surprisingly fine. I want you closer too. I want to feel you. Snuggling. It feels good. Soft and warm again. I don't feel any anger, wrath, thirst for revenge. Lots of pain though. I pity Nidhogg. He lost himself in it all. I almost did too, but I was lucky. Lucky my friends were there, lucky you were here. Nidhogg should have listened more and talked less. I still don't like people much. But there's some good ones. Not quite as good as you but they're alright. No, you're special. 

I kiss your forehead. I'm fine, I promise. More than fine. Content, happy - mournful. For Nidhogg, for those we lost. But happy. Happier than I've been in a while. I still need to find out exactly what happened with him, but I want to stay like this for a time. She's settled into my shoulder, and my lids feel heavy. That song I heard through Nidhogg's memories. It was pretty. About reflection. About memory. Remembrance.

The sound escaped my lips. She shifted in my arms. What face are you making? Probably horror. I can't imagine my voice matches up with the legendary song of Ratatoskr. No, you're smiling. I thought I'd never see this again. I'll sing a thousand times more if it makes you smile. Your cheeks are warm. I love gliding my fingers across them, through your hair. I love watching your expressions dissolve from one to another. Worry, happiness, worry, surprise, content. Laughter. 

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> Another shout out to all the people from the Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club. They're all amazing, incredible, wonderful people and would highly recommend checking out the Discord.
> 
> https://discord.gg/QCC5kcr (Please let me know if this link doesn't work)


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